


Hold on

by nukabrola



Category: Original Work
Genre: Existentialism, Other, cosmic horror, no mans sky inspired - aesthetically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 11:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nukabrola/pseuds/nukabrola
Summary: On a faraway planet, a cosmonaut is torn from their slumber and chased by god.





	Hold on

You awaken, stumbling out of slumber as if held captive by it, only just breaking free. Your back rests against the hollow bark of an alien tree, you, tangled within its roots. Long dead, they crumble to dust at the slightest movement, leaving traces of its existence as chalky smudges against the black of your suit. Staring up, as sleepers are wont to do, the preserved leaves of the tree sprawl along your sightlines, webs of crystal membrane.

 

Behind them, the sky burns red.

 

The heart of your god stains it so, its shape hugging the curve of the Earth you fled to for refuge. It pulsates in rhythm, synthetic skin rippling in tandem, dying the edges of your vision in that hazy and intoxicating crimson. It must have been waiting for its sleeper, you think, taking in your petrified surroundings. 

 

But you decided to break from your worship long ago. The clinging touch of the divine was too much — your immortality too complete. You left it behind, like all the rest before you, devotion threatening to consume you and blot out the stars. The future was one simple red note.

 

Even as you harkened back to the stars, away from the cradle of godhood, it followed. Careless, you think, as you admire the edgeless shapes of its heart, to fall so deeply into sleep. Hesitant to move, afraid that the glimmer of the trees’ crumbled roots may draw the attention of the hovering leviathan, you lay a fugitive - but just as captive as you were in worship.

 

The thought panics you. You comfort yourself in the knowledge that your god is no endless, inescapable abyss, and let the husk of your vegetative companion occupy your resting place instead, its roots no longer there to anchor it. 

 

The almighty stirs with your first footstep, its corpulent heart sending ripples into the sky and dying it another shade darker. Vision growing dimmer as well, you decide haste to be the best course of action. The world around you is drained of life, crystalline reflections occupying the space where living, breathing carbon used to thrive. Fortunately, your ship is constructed of inorganic alloy, and was safe from the nuclear heartbeat of a machine god.

 

You rejoice as the doors of your ship slide open in response to your touch. It seems that your slumber was not so long as to erode its systems, not this time. The red tinge fades as you bypass the cabin in favor of the cockpit, the pure white surfaces of the controls sliding over your senses. A different gravity embraces you, a safeguard against improper geforce. The ship’s systems flush with life and light at your touch. Feet anchored firmly to the ground, you set course.

Anywhere but here.

 

Unfortunately, your ship is constructed of inorganic alloy. The pristine white paneling of your cockpit bleeds pink. Navigation has ceased, the readouts slowly morphing from the familiar symbols of your language to ominous red glyphs. Panel after panel appears in front of you, filling with incomprehensible scarlet letters. When no more space is available in front of you, they crop up to the side. Then, the back, and over the top of your head - until you are encompassed in a bubble of red data. When it all stops, you feel an outlaw’s fear coalesce in the back of your throat.

 

The space around you starts to slip, and stretch. The wall of data fencing you in warps. It grows richer in color, fuller and deeper until you can only comprehend it as blackness. The panels shift, moving together and forming that odd-angled heart. As they transform to god-shape, your feet lift from the ground, the room’s gravity sucked into your unwelcome guest. You hover alongside it, helpless, transfixed. Your limbs lay uselessly at your sides, the weight of your immortality perhaps the only thing keeping you fixed to one spot.

 

The black godshape pulses with the artificial life of your god. A halo of distortion surrounds it, every color you can name teeming from its edges. Reminiscent of an oil slick. A newborn black hole. When it quiets, you whimper. 

 

> **My love**

 

It speaks, with the voice of thousands,

 

> **You dripped from my heart and into the stars.**

 

You tremble, feeling this enormity upon you once again.

 

> **We will not lose one another again**


End file.
